


Always a Moment

by tisfan



Series: Tony Stark Bingo [45]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Hydra, M/M, Pre-Slash, Winter Soldier - Freeform, prisoners together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:15:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22138426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: For this prompt:Tony is captured by Hydra, who try to get him to create weapons for them. When he keeps refusing, they throw him in a cell with the Winter Soldier--hoping some time with the Asset will scare him into cooperating, but also accepting that the Soldier might just kill him. Like a snake befriending the mouse given as a meal, the Soldier instead takes Tony as a (consensual) snuggle buddy, becoming fiercely protective of him. Eventually, the two find a way to escape.Also, for Tony Stark Bingo, card 2023, Fill T5 - Last Chance
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark
Series: Tony Stark Bingo [45]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1030077
Comments: 80
Kudos: 778
Collections: 2019 WinterIron_Holiday_Exchange, Tony Stark Bingo 2020





	Always a Moment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ezazahaz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ezazahaz/gifts).



The Hydra soldier, with his fresh, pressed and cleaned uniform and the tentacled skull badge, barked something to Tony in Russian.

Tony spoke seven languages, in addition to English.

Russian was one of them, but as far as Tony could tell, Hydra didn’t know that, and he wasn’t about to correct the assumption. Making someone repeat what he’d just been told, or try to make polite noises with the often profanity laden comebacks that Tony issued bought him _time_.

Time for what, he hadn’t yet decided.

But time.

And every moment counted, because sooner or later, there was always a moment to act.

Tony just hadn’t found it yet.

“He says this is your very last chance, Mr. Stark,” the woman said who was translating. She was the second -- or maybe the third -- such translator that Tony had had since Hydra captured him. He wasn’t sure what happened to the second one, but the first one had been shot in front of Tony and left to bleed out in their cell.

As a lesson.

They were all pretty, these Hydra women, and they’d all attempted at one point or another, to get close to him. Tony didn’t trust them either.

He knew Hydra’s method, he knew what they were like; these women were Hydra, no matter what he said, no matter what they said, and no matter if they died in Hydra’s service, kicking their life out on the floor while they slowly bled to death.

If didn’t make it easier for Tony to look at his translator and know that she might die because of what he said.

“Yeah, that’s good,” Tony said, nodding. “Getting tired of this routine anyway. Last chance. Last time for me to say, no thank you.”

He would not convert. He would not cow. He would not break. He would not build weapons for Hydra.

No.

The cost of one, or a dozen, Hydra agents didn’t come close to the debt that would be racked up, if Tony agreed. And, he reminded himself, those choices were still on Hydra. They didn’t have to kill people. They chose to.

Tony wasn’t making them.

Maybe they’d finally shoot him and have done with it; he wasn’t panning out on their investment. God only knew what a good torturer cost these days. 

Stark Men are Iron. He met the eyes of his translator. “I’m sorry for you.” Because that was true. “But the answer is still no.”

“I am sorry for you, Stark,” she told him. And then she told the other officer what he’d said, including his remarks about her. 

The door to whatever his fate was was unlocked and he was shoved inside, hands still zip-tied behind his back, legs still hobbled by the chain and cuffs they’d welded onto his ankles. 

They locked the door behind him and--

Walked away.

What, the plan was to starve him to death now? To forget about him.

An oubliette.

He took a few steps forward, squinting, trying to see.

A narrow bench was fastened to one wall, maybe long enough to lay on, uncomfortably. The corner would probably work pretty well for scraping the damn zip tie off, and maybe then he’d be a little more comfortable. He shuffled forward again--

The faintest sound of breath warned him, more than anything else. He had no sense of another person, no feeling of being watched. He was alone, and then a shadow moved in the darkness.

Tony did not shriek and stumble backward, falling on the metal bench and banging his head on the wall. That didn’t happen and he would deny it until his dying day. Which was probably today, all things considered. He whined a bit because he couldn’t rub his head with his hands behind his back, and now his nose itched too, which seemed somehow extremely unfair.

“Ow,” he complained. “Look-- whatever this is, can we just get on with it?”

The shape moved again, came closer, and Tony could see a man, dark ragged hair and dark clothes, who moved with feral grace. Beautiful, under a layer of dirt and grime and blood. Good cheekbones, and a strong jaw. Could use a shave and a shower, and maybe a few candy bars--

“Hey, hey now, what are we--” 

The man picked Tony up, pulling him to his feet, and then turned him around, ignoring all of Tony’s attempts to wrench away.

With one hand, the man tugged the zip tie free, which was mostly nice, except it left a bruise on Tony’s wrist. “Well, that’s handy-- oh, wow, look at your arm.” Because brain to mouth filter was still in its default off position. Prosthetic, metal arm, fully functional, it made soft whining noises as the servos moved, the plates clicking into place like metal skin. “Wow, this is beautiful tech, can I see, do you have a name, what should I call you, are you Hydra, or another prisoner--” He pushed the man’s sleeve up to see how far the arm went up, but the sleeve wouldn’t go any further than the elbow joint.

“Bucky,” the man said, his voice a low, almost inaudible growl. Pressure in the air, the shape of a word on full, lush lips.

“What?”

“My name. Is Bucky.”

“Hey there, Buck. I’m Tony Stark,” Tony said, turning the arm again. “So, Hail Hydra, or no? I prefer no, because Hydra sucks, but I realize I’m in here to be punished, so--”

“No.”

“No covers a lot of territory, can we be a little more specific.”

“You’re mine,” Bucky said. “You’re in here as a reward.”

“Yeah, okay, no, so I don’t--”

Tony found himself squashed into a hug, with Bucky’s nose stuffed in the crook of his neck. 

“--awkward.” He took a few breaths and when it seemed like Bucky was not going to break his back or squeeze him to death, or even, for that matter, do anything else, Tony patted the man on the back. “So, is this what you do with all your rewards.”

“No. Usually I kill them.”

“I can’t say that sounds appealing to me,” Tony mentioned. “Why?”

“They fight me,” Bucky said. 

“Hmmm, yeah, no, that’s not the plan,” Tony said. “I mean, I will fight, if I have to. But as long as you don’t try to hurt me, or make me build weapons, I’m just as happy to let you sit on your side of the tiny little prison cell.”

“It’s not a cell,” Bucky said, pointing. The dark corner had concealed a doorway to a narrow hall. Perhaps not a cell, but still, a _prison_. Even a gilded cage was still a cage, no matter how nice. 

“What?”

Bucky eyed Tony up and down, noting the chains at his ankles. “Come on,” he said, and then, rather than dragging Tony after him, stumbling and tripping over the hobble, he picked Tony up in a bridal carry and strode off. 

“Uh--”

“It’s easier,” Bucky said. “And you weigh _nothing_.”

“I am five foot ten, and a respectable weight for an adult male,” Tony huffed.

“You’re _tiny_.” Bucky paused. “Smol. Sweet bean. Precious cinnamon roll.”

“Oh, come on,” Tony protested.

Deeper in the building, Bucky had a few rooms, bedroom, a living room with a television, a kitchen. There was a coffee pot, oh thank god. When Bucky noticed Tony staring at it, he threw another filter and grounds in, started it up. 

“I think I love you already,” Tony murmured. “What is this place? If you’re not Hydra.”

Bucky shrugged. “My home. They sent you to me, to show you the truth of things. You will do-- I’m not--” He poured coffee and handed it to Tony. “I’m not Hydra. I’m an American. I-- but I am also The Fist of Hydra. The Winter Soldier. You will-- comply. No choices. You will… hear their words and you will do what you’re told. It’s a long process. There will be pain. And you will lose. You can’t fight them. Not anymore.”

“What, you mean, brainwashing? That’s a load of crap. Pseudo science. A bad movie plot.”

“It’s real,” Bucky said. “I wish to Christ it wasn’t. But sometimes, between missions, I have a home. I get a friend. If I don’t kill them, they-- go to the Chair. They comply. They always comply.” He sighed, sitting in the chair, gesturing for Tony to take the one across from him. 

“You sound like you don’t like that idea much,” Tony said, turning it over in his head. 

Bucky put his hand on the table, the nails bitten to the quick, the knuckles dirty. “Then I’m alone again. Or sent on a mission.”

Tony reached out, and Bucky took his hand, twining their fingers together. Touch starved. Lonely. They both were. “What if I said it doesn’t have to be like that? That I might be able to get us out.”

“I’m listening.”

“Are they?”

Bucky shrugged. “Don’t know. Maybe.”

Tony finished his mug of coffee, but weirdly felt more tired than stimulated. Maybe it was just being able to rest, to relax, for the first time in months. He yawned.

Bucky nodded, then said, “Give me your feet.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, but put his feet, chain clinking between his fettered ankles, up on Bucky’s lap. Bucky wrapped his hand around one end of the chain, then using that metal arm, pulled, strained-- the metal of the chain squealed as Bucky’s bicep bulged, and--

The chain broke, two links breaking entirely.

“Holy shit, you’re strong. Why-- how can they even keep you here?”

“The words,” Bucky said. “I comply. I will-- Tony, I will kill you, if they tell me to. You can’t trust me. I can’t… I can’t be trusted.”

“You let me worry about that, Buttercup,” Tony said. “Sleep, food, and then-- planning.”

Bucky touched Tony’s cheek, light, with one metal finger. “All right.”

It wasn’t much, but Tony nurtured that little speck of hope, that could ignite a blaze, and light their way to freedom.

It was a chance.

It was a moment.

There was always a moment.


End file.
